


In the Heart of the Ocean

by ameliathermopolis



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Here there be mermaids, pre-stream, references to trauma, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8647555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameliathermopolis/pseuds/ameliathermopolis
Summary: Written for the Critical Role Reverse Bang, with the help of the amazing art of thegoldenlocks.***Bad news on the horizon. The call came down from the crow’s nest of the Sea Nymph as black storm clouds rolled across the sky, sizzling with lightning. The storm had been waiting for them to meet it all day, pacing on the edge where the sea met the sky. It stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, like a wave arching over the ship. When pressed to go around the storm, Captain Bane had only smiled and said, “She’s weathered worse.”"She and I both," Percy thought, as the rope to the main sail opened cut and callous in his palms. His arms ached from pulling the same as they had his first day on deck, but at least now he could bear it better. "The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea." Percival de Rolo had had enough of the first, had run dry of the second, and was only recently experiencing the full brunt of the third.





	

**Author's Note:**

> One day this thing is going to grow into a full on Little Mermaid AU, and I'm going to hold Mac personally responsible.

_Bad news on the horizon._ The call came down from the crow’s nest of the _Sea Nymph_ as black storm clouds rolled across the sky, sizzling with lightning. The storm had been waiting for them to meet it all day, pacing on the edge where the sea met the sky. It stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, like a wave arching over the ship.

When pressed to go around the storm, Captain Bane had only smiled and said, “She’s weathered worse.”

 _She and I both_ , Percy thought, as the rope to the main sail opened cut and callous in his palms. His arms ached from pulling the same as they had his first day on deck, but at least now he could bear it better. _The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea._ Percival de Rolo had had enough of the first, had run dry of the second, and was only recently experiencing the full brunt of the third.

A wave slammed against the port side hull and he shifted his weight to account for the accompanying rock of the deck beneath his feet. A year ago that would have sent him flying. A lot can change in a year.

Percy reached up and took his glasses off, wiping the spray of sea water off the lenses. He didn’t know why he bothered with it as much as he did – the salt still caked on so that he may as well not have been wearing them at all.

The _Sea Nymph_ crested over a wave and descended with a disquieting groan of wood under duress. Percy flinched hard and Rickas’ laughter greeted him from the crow’s nest soon after.

“I thought you’d grown out of turning green at the sight of a few clouds, lad! Put your back into it!” the second mate called out to him.

“And I thought I told you I’ll not stand for a common dwarven ne’er-do-well telling me what to do! And how about you come down here and put _your_ back into it!” he called up. The dwarf laughed, already swinging hand over hand down the rigging.

“Not even a full day out of Emon and already we’re primed to get smashed to ribbons on this bloody reef.” Rickas jumped, caught himself on the edge of the starboard side banister and leaned over, black hair blowing in the wind. He ran a hand over the side of the ship, fingers tapping against what gaps in the planks he could find. He frowned.

“Won’t the ice breakers help with the reef?” Percy asked, dragging the mainsail rope over to tie off to the side.

“Ice ain’t moored to anything, lad. There’s always water underneath, if you go far enough,” Rickas said. “Coral goes deep into the sea, like earth and stone itself. One of those breakers catches anything remotely solid and we’re in for a sudden stop.”

“Enough to sink?” Percy said. Rickas turned his face up to him and laughed again.

“That’ll entirely depend on how angry King Korren is.”

Percy snorted and shook his head at the dwarf. It was a common story on the _Nymph_ – a whole nation of druid merfolk that lived below the waves in the Osmit Sea, in castles made of glass and coral and magic the world above could never hope to even dream of again. It was said that King Korren could command the ocean as if it were another one of his subjects, and the crew cursed or blessed him depending on which way the wind blew.

 _What a load of tosh_ , Percy thought.

* * *

The rain, when they met it, was like walking into a wall. The bow plowed through a sheet of water and within minutes, every creature on deck was soaked through to the bone. Percy had long since given up on keeping his glasses clean. His hands kept slipping as he tried to tie the last of his knots, the water making the ropes swell and rebel against his efforts to subdue the last of the loose cargo on deck. The day had long moved into night and they no longer had any light to work by but lamps that swung in the wind where they were nailed to masts, and the lightning that crackled above.

The knot at last vanquished, Percy moved closer to the bow of the ship and stooped under a make shift tent made out of leather tarp and two reasonably heavy chests. It was little help against the rain that kept blowing in, but it worked to keep out most of the waves that sloshed over the sides. He always found it easier to deal with the harsh crests and falls of the ship when he could press against one of its walls and close his eyes.

In his mind, in every storm, Percy flew. He flew in an airship of his own design, a mixture of the best of seafaring craftsmanship and all that arcana could grant his vessel, up and up and up until the clouds fell away like waves beneath him, and there was only the moon and stars to guide his course. It was a dream, and though it did not stop the cold and went from leaking into his shoes, or stop the wind from making his shoulders shake, it warmed him just the same.

Percy remembered the first storm he had seen, just beyond the shores of Wild Mount, a whirlwind of sleet and ice that had nearly frozen them in place. Captain Bane had taught him how his ship ran in such form that dark afternoon.

_We go forward. We keep on course. We pray._

_Pray to what and to whom?_ _Who is the god of bastards and broken things?_ A year at the mast, and still he did not know for certain. He had read of so many gods; of Umberlee, the goddess of sea and storm, with her waves of chaos; of the Devourer, tempest incarnate; of Deep Sashelas of the elves, and Eadro of the merfolk, and Gruumsh of the orc. None of them were his gods, though. Percy fumbled into the pocket of his sodden grey coat and grabbed at a holy symbol shaped like a bright cooper sun, broken and cracked from its journey from the temple that lay by the graveyard to a ship in a storm. It did not glow with holy light – Percy, after all, was no cleric – but it comforted him in what little way such signs could. Life and light. Those were the things he had to believe in to survive. _I will see the sun again_ , he thought. _I will live to see the blue sky._ It was a small goal, but it had gotten him as far as it had for a reason.

Just as Percy tucked himself more securely into the corner of the deck, several sights and sounds followed each other in quick succession. First, there was a blinding flash of light that streaked through the main mast and into the center of the ship, the corresponding boom of thunder loud enough make Percy’s head ring as it knock him back against the deck. Second, there was a sickening groan of wood and metal being bent towards their breaking point, and the crack of them pushing past it. Percy stumbled as the deck lurched under him, both sides of the ship bending inwards towards the epicenter of the lightning strike. He scrambled, dug his fingers into the spaces between the planks of wood, and cried out as the rain made them slip.

One, two, three hard slams against the broken deck were all the chances he had to grab hold of something solid. He missed all of them. The rain pounded down as Percy fell backwards, arms still outstretched and searching for purchase. It couldn’t have taken him more than three seconds to reach the sea water, but as the screams of men and the roar of a newly born fire surrounded him, deafened him, it felt as long a fall as if he had dropped out of the sky itself.

The sea swallowed him whole. Percy barely had enough sense to gasp in a breath before there was only the water, salt stinging his eyes

Percy flailed, tried to find which way was up, but the current dragged him down and down and down until he was almost blinded with the darkness of the sea. _I am going to die here._ The thought was not necessarily an unhappy one. His mouth opened and the last bubbles of air in his lungs began to escape just as his eyes closed. _This is the furthest away from home I’ve ever been._

For a brief, blissful moment, he floated. The water wrapped around his body, no longer tossing, only holding as he fell deeper and deeper. The current swirled for just a moment as the burning in his lungs started to peak before…warmth.

A pair of soft, warm hands pressed to Percy’s throat, cradling his head up.

_“Breathe.”_

Percy’s eyes opened to a flash of purple arcane light and met a pair of eyes staring hard into his face. Without thought, he opened his mouth to scream. The sound that came out was more a whimper than a shout.

It was a woman. Red hair floated around her head, framing piercing green eyes set in a brown face that was covered in freckles.

“Breathe!” she said again. Percy gasped and tried to push away and only when he had been able to get a hand on one of her shoulders did he think to question why he could gasp at all. He froze, returned the woman’s stare, and took one long breath. His lungs ached with the exertion, but it was better than them filling with seawater.

“How did you…?” he started. His voice caught in his throat as his eyes went from where his glasses sat, perfectly perched on the top of her head, down towards her neck. Olive green scales covered the entire front of her body, wrapping around her throat and fading out onto her shoulders and back. They grew denser at her waist, covering more and more of her skin until…

“Tail.” It was not the most intelligent remark Percy had ever made, but neither was it the most inaccurate. The woman had a long, fish like tail where her legs ought to have been, with scales that he thought must turn a hundred shades of green in the light. A light giggle brought his attention back to her face. She had come close enough to him that her face began to blur. “Are you going to drown me?” he stammered. He tried to kick and swim away, but the mermaid held his neck fast. Her eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Why would I do something like that?” She had a high, clear voice that, even with the spell, sounded watery after the tempest above. Percy felt his chest starting to tighten, his mind racing and his breath coming fast and hard. _No. No, not here, not now, please._

“Why would you help me?” he countered. His limbs were starting to ache with the desire to run, to just _move_ , but the more he kicked, the weaker he became. The mermaid moved her hands to his shoulders, her fingers grabbing at his coat and pulling him forward until her nose almost touched his. She was stronger than him. Percy was willing to bet she would be faster, too. If she tried to pull him down, he couldn’t dream of stopping her. A flash of lightning tore across her face. It twisted, became older, pale, with hair starting to go grey, eyes that glinted with delight, and a smile that was wicked in its understanding. _Not again. Not back to the dark. Run. Run. Run!_

The light vanished as quickly as it had come and he was staring at the mermaid again. Her eyes were the color of cut emeralds and fresh grass and leaves at the height of summer, with specks of gold and amber at the edge of the iris.

“Why would you help me?” he asked again. The mermaid’s eyes softened with her smile.

“Because you need it, and I can give it. Is that not reason enough, in the world above?” She put her fingers to her lips and let out a long, low whistle that resonated through the water.

The mermaid took his hand and pulled him further down, away from the tossing waves above to calm water below. As the current went with them and the swirling sea became smooth and comforting, Percy saw another flash of arcane light. The mermaid’s fingers brushed across his forehead, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, and he felt his eyes grow heavy. Just before they closed, he felt his body put to rest on something large and smooth and ever moving. The name of the animal came to him just in time for him to laugh.

It was a whale. Of course.

 _Cassandra wouldn’t believe this_ , he thought as he drifted out to sea and sleep.

* * *

Light hit Percy’s face just as he landed with a hard thud against something solid and grainy. He groaned, shifted so that his right arm could move over his eyes, before the events of the past evening rushed back in like a wave. His eyes flew open. The bright yellow light of dawn hit him full force, blinding and harsh and hot. A laugh bubbled up in chest, full of hysteria and joy in equal measure.

 _The sun. Gods above, the sun._ His right hand moved automatically, reaching to grasp for the symbol of Pelor in his coat, if only for something to hold on to. Tears started to pool in the corners of his eyes and Percy couldn’t pretend to know if the brightness of the light, or the fact that he was alive to see it, was the culprit.

He was soaked through to the bone, every stitch of clothing sodden with salt water, and every inch of him hurt if he even thought about moving. His fingers closed around smooth stones and great handfuls of sand that scraped at his palms. Land, hard and solid and sure, lay at his back. Percy couldn’t have been happier if he had woken up back in his own feather bed.

Once he sat up and his eyes adjusted to the light, it was easier to try to get a grasp on where he had landed. The world right in front of his nose was a foggy mess without his glasses, but he recognized the gulls that circled the tidal pools, the stone cliffs that jutted up behind him, and the way the sun was rising against the wide ocean to the east. This was Tal’Dorei country, at least, and that was no small mercy. Not even a full day out of Emon. That was what Rickas had said before the storm broke.

Rickas. Captain Bane. The storm.

Just as Percy got to his feet, a wave of memory came over him and with it the dizziness of vertigo. He put his hands one of the rocks that jutted out of the beach and vomited up a stream of salt water that burned his throat and nose. They would be gone, of course, unless the Ozmit Sea and the gods of wind and rain were generous to grant more than one miracle in the span of an evening. _Only me. Why must it always be only me?_ Though he had known from the moment he stepped on her deck that his time on the _Nymph_ wouldn’t last, the thought of another home, however small and broken, being ripped away from him nearly made Percy sit down right where he was and cry. Perhaps it would have made him feel better, but he also knew it wouldn’t have helped him any, and he couldn’t help himself until he knew where he was.

Percy scrambled on the rocks until he had gained his footing, every joint in his body creaking in protest. He craned his head back, looking up the tall white cliff before him just as an airship crested over it, heading east towards the dawn. The flag of the Tal’Dorei royal house flew from behind. Only one city within a night’s travel had a sky port that would fly that brand.

It _was_ Emon. He’d gotten right back to where he’d started.

“Are these yours?”

Percy jumped and nearly slipped at the sudden noise. He whirled, hand going to a scabbard that lay empty at his left hip. The mermaid lay in a shallow pool, one hand tucked under her chin. Her face lit up as she laughed at what must have been a sublimely funny look on his face. Her other hand stretched out towards him, his glasses glinting in the sunlight.

“They’re wonderfully curious,” the mermaid said as he walked towards her and knelt by the pool. “Is it magic glass? Do they help you see things others can’t?” Percy snatched them out of her hands, wrapped them around his ears, and sighed when he felt a bit of his dizziness start to subside as the world came into focus.

“They help me see what’s right in front of me, so I suppose you could say that,” he said. Her hair shone like fire in the sunlight, a bright copper red that contrasted sharply with her scales and their hundred shades of green. Somewhere in his mind, Percy knew he was staring, but that didn’t stop him. Her brown skin warmed to a near golden sheen where the sunlight hit her shoulders, and the pieces of sea glass woven into her hair caused pink and blue lights to dance over her back. She was a creature out of myth, the image of a fictional patroness carved and affixed to the bow of a ship. But she was real. Percy did not think highly enough of his imagination to give it the credit of imagining her.

“My name’s Keyleth, by the way,” she said. “Princess Keyleth, if you want to be formal, but I think it’s a bit much.” She crossed her arms over a rock and rested her chin on her forearms, looking at him expectantly. Percy blinked at her. It was the most patently ridiculous thing he’d heard in a good long while, but not too ridiculous that he was beyond believing it. It had, after all, been a very eventful day. His gaze fell on the intricate coral tiara nestled into her hair and the matching necklace and bracelets at her neck and wrists.

“Princess?” he asked. “So your father would be…”

“King Korren, of the Water Ashari, yes. Have you heard of us? We’re not a very…social people.” Percy snorted.

“Living under the sea can have that effect, I imagine. You probably don’t get out much.” It was meant as a joke, but Percy did not miss the tiny flinch the statement caused in its subject. “I just mean…not everyone would have done what you did for me. Most people wouldn’t have. Most people would have let me drown, and I can’t say I would blame them for it.” He looked into her eyes even though he didn’t want to, and for a split second, Keyleth looked back at him like she was about to cry.

“That would have been horrible. That would have been _wrong_. Every life has a purpose. Every life deserves saving. Why shouldn’t yours?” It was such a simple question that it caught him off guard, even as a hundred answers swarmed to his tongue. _Because I do not deserve it_ , was all he could think. He knew he could sit and explain, could tell this girl everything, but it would not be enough. It would not absolve him and it would not erase the memory of his sister bleeding red onto the snow as he ran. Percy looked down at Keyleth, all enthusiasm and care, and decided not to burden another person with his pain.

“Do you do this rescuing thing very often?” he asked to change the subject. “You seem very well suited to it.” He saw the suspicion in her eyes and sent a silent prayer of thanks to Pelor when she did not pursue it. Keyleth shrugged and looked down at her hands.

“Sometimes I would come here to and find ships in the harbor to watch, or to see what treasures were being transported to and from the lands beyond the sea. I think every sailor dreams of what lays beneath the waves, but all my dreams and adventures lay there, beyond that cliff side. But…” she trailed off, her fingers drawing circles in the puddles of water around her. “I am trapped here for now.”

A silenced yawned between them. Percy was the first to break it, his eyes trained on the pile of rocks at his feet.

“This voyage was my first time to the city,” Percy said. “I grew up far to the northeast of here, in a castle called Whitestone.”

“A castle?” Keyleth asked. “Like a prince?” Percy found himself smiling and nodded.

“Yes, if you like. But there is no water, no way to the ocean from there. It is all dense forests and mountain and valleys that stretch out as far as the eye can see. It feels like the top of the world, when the Winter’s Crest season comes and the snow falls a foot deep in one night.” It had been so long since Percy had thought of home, so long since he had let himself remember. He could see it so clearly in his mind, the white towers on the hill and the town beneath, lit up with dancing lights as music floated through the air, mingling with the snowflakes and north wind. An ache started to pool in the center of his chest.

“It sounds wonderful,” Keyleth said, eyes starry and wide.

“Yes,” Percy said. “Yes, it does. Perhaps one day we’ll both see it.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he wanted to curse when Keyleth’s eyes lit up with delight.

“Oh, please!” she said. “Father says I am to go on a journey soon, that I’m to prepare to be Queen of all our people someday. I’ll find you, assuming I’m not grounded for the rest of my life after this. What’s your name,” she asked, “in case I should need to call upon you?”

For a brief moment, Percy didn’t know what to tell her. Ever since the crew of the _Nymph_ plucked him out of Stilben, half drowned in swamp water and liquor alike, he had always been Percy. Just Percy, when not being ‘boy’ or ‘lad’ or ‘you there, son.’ Keyleth’s eyes stared up at him, piercing and kind, and for one horrible, wonderful moment, they reminded him of his mother.

Julius had given him a black eye in some scuffle that could only be a matter of the highest honor between a boy and his little brother. Johanna de Rolo had wiped her second son’s tears, kissed his bruises. The people of Whitestone had said the North turned folk cold and still as the ice on the mountains, but Percy could remember the time before his mother had lost her own warmth, a gentle glow of fire against the snow. _We didn’t touch in my family, not at the end. But before…_

“No matter what anyone says about you, Percival, remember who you are,” she’d said, his face cradled in her hands. “Remember who you are, and the great name you bear.”

Keyleth looked up at him from her perch, her tail swishing slowly with the water that managed to reach the tidal pool, her eyes wide and honest and full of a hope he envied. The next voice his memory conjured for him was his father’s. _Remember who you are, Percival. Remember your manners._ He sat up straight and doffed his cap.

“Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, at your service. But you can call me Percy.”

Keyleth’s face split into a wide smile. “An honor, my lord,” she said in a thick approximation of his accent. She bowed her head low enough her forehead touched the water, arms outstretched in a mocking curtsey. “It is nice to meet you, Percy.”

“And you, your highness.” Percy fell into a similar overly deep bow and was rewarded with a flurry of giggles when he almost slipped headfirst into the water. “I do hope I see you again, Keyleth. It…it has been a long while since I have had a friend. We are friends, aren’t we?”

“I’ve only just met you, but I know I like you,” she said, resounding with confidence. “So yes, we must be friends, and there are no real goodbyes between friends. My mother always said that it is only ever ‘farewell.’” A smile to match hers spread across Percy’s face and he leaned down a little more so she could hear him a bit better.

“She sounds like a wise woman. Then, farewell, Princess, wherever you fare,” he said. He reached to take one of her hands and before he could, Keyleth had wrapped one arm around his shoulders and hauled herself almost clean out of the water to get the other one around him. She had a fierce embrace and Percy found himself leaning into it, his hands braced at her back. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been hugged. He was practically starved for it. Keyleth gave a little squeak when he hugged her back, arms tight around her middle. “Thank you,” he whispered before letting go and leading her back to the water. “Thank you, Keyleth. For everything.”

“Farewell, Percy,” she said, her eyes following him as he stood back up to his full height. “I’ll see you again, at your castle in the snow.”

“I very much look forward to it.”

Before he could think better of it, Percy turned and started to walk back up the beach, hands clenched in his pockets. The holy symbol burned warm against his palm.

“Percy!” Keyleth called out from the water. “One last thing!” He turned to face her, eyebrow raised. “That grey coat doesn’t suit you one bit. I’d try blue with the next one, like your eyes.” With a wave of her hand and a flash of green scales in the morning sun, she was gone, like the perfecting ending to one of his mother’s fairy tales.

Percy stood on the beach and watched the water as the tide went out. Each new wave got further and further from his feet and the sun rose higher and higher until it had almost crested to noon.

The path from the beach up the cliff was steep and rocky, barely wide enough for two men to walk side by side. Percy looked back at the water before turning to the earth rising before him. It had never been said that he did not know an ultimatum when he saw one.

“Only one way to go,” he muttered, and began to climb.

* * *

 

Emon bustled in the comforting way that all cities do, full of promises of anonymity and intrigue. Percy fell into it, let it move him through the streets and crowds as if he belonged there. He sold every trinket he could find in his grey coat's myriad of pockets before eventually selling it too. The pawnbroker he found just outside the Cloud Top District, out of pity or disinterest, gave him a hearty discount on an old naval uniform coat from before the army had started using airships, cut in deep blue velvet with golden embroidery at the shoulders, wrists, and chest. It fell to his knees and when he turned up the collar, it just brushed against his ears. It didn’t come with any buttons and the lining would have to be cut out and restitched, but Percy bought it just the same. It was nothing a bolt of grey and purple linen and a needle couldn’t fix, after all, and it would be glorious to be able to work on something, anything again.

Percy bought a book of fairy tales with what little change he still had, glad to see he could still haggle his way if need be. He read it while tucked into a corner of a tavern, a plate he had licked clean in front of him. He would head east, he decided, towards Westruun. Though the call of the faraway lands of Vasselheim and the deserts of Marquet held a small sway on his heart, Percy thought it best to stick to the land for a time. The Cobalt Reserve could serve as a place to work, if they had need for a bookish, organized sort of person, and there was always smith work if they didn’t.

The night was warm, a thing that even his months gone from the north could not make him used to. The snow and frost and fair north wind was in his blood, and no amount of sun and sea could change that. Even in the height of summer, Whitestone castle had been wreathed in the cool breezes of forests and mountains that heralded the coming winter. This place was different, and the world was wide.

Percy’s room was small, as befit his means if not his tastes, and he fell onto the bed still wearing his acquired coat. He did not know what tomorrow would bring, but as he fell into sleep, he knew that at least there was a tomorrow too look forward to, a path to find or to forge. It was a gift he cherished, wholeheartedly, though he did not know where it would take him.

 _Remember who you are_ , his mother whispered in his memory. _Remember your family. Remember your name._ For the first time in almost two years, Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III was not haunted by nightmares full of blood and teeth and darkness.

Instead, he dreamed of black smoke and eyes that glowed like embers, and a path he knew was his, and his alone to walk.


End file.
